


Lost with the Wind

by kawaakms



Category: Heaven Official's Blessing, 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 | Tiān Guān Cì Fú - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence, Character Death, HOB - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, TGCF - Freeform, beefleaf, death au, i listened to my emo playlist writing this, is this what they call sadomasochism, teenage angst held me at gunpoint and told me to write this, why do i crave pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 14:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20707847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawaakms/pseuds/kawaakms
Summary: AU in which He Xuan never set Shi Qingxuan free and instead sought retribution through death.





	Lost with the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooo
> 
> I'm a new fanfic writer and this is my first real work, and I thought beefleaf deserved the honor of taking my first post. I've never written a one shot before but inspiration held me at gunpoint and told me to make this.
> 
> Honestly wondering what possessed me to bring such pain into the world send help.

He Xuan had lived long. Far too long. Time had wrapped him in its hazy embrace before he could even realize it; the ribbon of fate tugging him from his comfortable life into a vat of misery. No longer human, he was merely a shell of a ghost who survived away from society’s fearful stares in quiet isolation. He had lived long, and experienced much - carrying the weight of wisdom and truth that seemed to become heavier as the years passed like minutes.

However, the one truth He Xuan’s gaze was shielded from was that he was not, had never been, and would never be in control of his own existence. He had lived and suffered at the hands of another, and died and suffered at the hands of the same person. He spent years plotting revenge and boiling the pot of anger inside him until it felt like it might either explode in a fiery mess or fizzle out into a puff of steam. Everything meant nothing if he couldn’t give himself the justice he craved in crushing that person’s soul, scattering the ashes in the wind. Day after day, the blood running through his veins pulsed with frothing resentment. 

In the end, that person did die by his hands. He Xuan thought to himself: “finally, my destiny is my own. I will no longer be bound by the chains of the wind. I am free to walk whichever road I choose with a clear mind and a light heart.”

Except it wasn’t. He Xuan wasn’t free. He was haunted everyday by the light of the person he hated most - and had loved most. The heart he thought would at last gain wings, crusted over with steel and sank into an abyss impenetrable by the sun’s rays rising steadily above a black horizon. The shackles that should have snapped had tightened and suffocated him. Freedom continued to elude him, and now his sanity had also slipped through his fingers. 

And so it became a ritual for him to awaken at dawn, dragging his weary body to the edge of the ocean sand in front of his empty obsidian castle. He stood close enough that the scent of salt rubbed his nose raw, and far enough that the inky water never grazed his blanched skin.

After that it was a waiting game. Sometimes, He Xuan found that all it took was a few minutes. Other times it would take so long that the glittering bony skeletons of his ghost arowanas would stir up whirlpools in the water restlessly; as if mimicking He Xuan’s own feelings of impatience. 

Today, it didn’t take longer than a breath for He Xuan to lose his mind once again. 

Among the gentle lapping of the sea, long green robes appeared to form from the waves. They glided along the surface, always staying dry and unblemished despite the unforgiving wet darkness below them. In this light, they really did resemble the robes of a true god. Sparkling with the pinks and oranges of sunrise and ordained with elaborate golden stitching. 

The person wearing such elegant clothes was even more bewitching. Skin as smooth as marble crinkled around blushing lips and pulled taut in his usual blinding grin, delicate eyes damp with some forlorn emotion He Xuan couldn’t recognize. His long hair framed his picturesque appearance like the most divine portrait, and He Xuan wondered how he had ever thought him a false deity. In this moment he was enraptured, unable to ignore the sudden beauty in front of him. It was ironic, he thought, how the only semblance of peace he could feel was when he succumbed to his madness. 

“Hello, He Xuan,” the man said, and He Xuan’s stomach rolled tumultuously. He might never get used to the pain of longing for the familiarness they once held. It didn’t matter that Ming Yi was nothing more than a false alias, everytime Shi QingXuan called him by a name other than the loving “Ming-xiong,” He Xuan was overcome with immense regret. How did they fall so far?

“Shi QingXuan...” he began.

Though words suddenly seemed like an unnecessary nuisance. Every time Shi QingXuan visited him his tongue never failed to become a block of lead in his mouth. There was nothing he was able to say to this man that would change their situation. Or rather, there was another truth he still couldn’t bring himself to admit. 

After the barest hint of a greeting they would bask in each other’s company amidst calm silence. He Xuan unwilling to move forward, and Shi QingXuan waiting ever so patiently for him to say what he needed to hear the most. 

If you asked why He Xuan couldn’t - and didn’t - want to utter those words, there would be too many answers to come to a single conclusion. How many years had he spent, had he wasted, plotting vengeance? How many years did he writhe in pain despite having an antidote right before his eyes? His pride was too large, or perhaps he didn’t have enough pride to admit he had been wrong.

But even more than that, He Xuan didn’t want to let Shi QingXuan go. He wasn’t allowed to rest comfortably. Why should he find peace even with all of his wrongdoings? That was the excuse He Xuan gave himself when his heart ached at the thought of forever losing the last scrap of Shi QingXuan he could find on this earth.

Somehow, the air between them was different today. Shi QingXuan didn’t disperse once the sun had completed its journey above the horizon, and he didn’t resign himself to silence.

“He Xuan, why did you kill me?” Shi QingXuan’s voice had no tremble of anger or fear, merely a touch of sadness as soft as a leaf falling to the ground.

Involuntarily, He Xuan felt his breath hitch in his throat at the unexpected question. 

“It’s not that I blame you...” he continued lightly. “After all those days I begged for it, how could I? But how do I say it, He Xuan, you don’t want me to leave, do you?” 

He Xuan lowered his head while his eyelashes met his cheeks in fluttering caresses. He didn’t want to talk about this. He wanted to enjoy his peaceful time with the wind god. At the time he had thought himself so righteous, but now he only saw a foolishly blind youth.

In all his many centuries of existing, his biggest regret would always be blocking out the soft, loyal breeze. 

Shi WuDu’s blood had soaked his brother to the bone by the time He Xuan had seen Shi QingXuan’s eyes go cold. He had lost the last of his family to the hands of his best friend. At that time, there seemed to be nothing left for him to be cheerful about. He had finally been broken.

He Xuan should have been happy, but a deep dissatisfaction kept the empty void in his heart from closing. He had finally accomplished his ultimate objective, so why? Why?

In his growing irritation at his own confusing emotions he had snapped, granting the wind god the death he believed he deserved. Crushing his soul and scattering his ashes into the black sea beside his lonely, lonely castle.

No one had come to save him. Not his friends, not his brother, and not the one he used to call his best friend while radiating a carefree smile. 

He Xuan kept his gaze on the sand, on his feet cutting the rhythm of the waves, and wadded into the water.

Water sloshed around his ankles, his knees, his waist, all the while Shi QingXuan beckoned him with taps of his folding fan to his lips.

He Xuan was not in control of his own life. He had been blinded for many lifetimes, always striving towards a false goal and deluding himself with misguided blame. Only at the end did he finally see what had been so obvious from the first time the wind god had bowed in greeting, eyes wild and sparking with his unique glint of innocence. 

His life had always belonged to Shi QingXuan.

The green robes that had melded with the salty water performed their metamorphosis for the last time, becoming one with the sea foam once again. And with the faint whisper of laughter on the wind it seemed to be heard that a quiet and despairing “I’m sorry,” was muttered from the ghost’s pale lips. 


End file.
